


Remember Me

by GlitterGoth114



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst, Coma, F/M, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, True Love, sansan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterGoth114/pseuds/GlitterGoth114
Summary: Sansa Stark had everything she could want. A loving family, a doting boyfriend, president of her sorority, and job offers pouring in. Yes, everything was perfect. Until she wakes up in the hospital and finds out she’s been in a terrible accident and lost the last six years of her memory. Her father is dead, her boyfriend ran off with her best friend, and a man she’s never met insists that the diamond ring on her left hand is from him.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 67
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One - Sandor

_This is the worst day of my life._

Many people toss that phrase around, and Sandor himself had growled at friends and acquaintances to get over themselves when they’d uttered it. But no, this truly was the worst day of his life. He’d let Gregor press his face to the radiator a thousand times over if he could only wake up and find this had all been another bad dream. 

This was his worst nightmares come to life, but it wasn’t a dream. There was no waking up from this one, not for him. 

_Please, little bird. Wake up._

Sansa’s small, cold hand was wrapped up in both of his, and his forehead was pressed to the back of his hand. He didn’t believe in the Gods, but he was praying now like he’d never prayed before. 

_Please wake up, little bird. Please wake up._

He could hear Arya and Jon murmuring behind him, but the words they said did not register in his mind. They could’ve been speaking Dothraki, or the Old Tongue for all Sandor knew. All he could hear was the steady beeping of the machines Sansa was hooked up to, the hissing and rhythmic _chug-chug_ of her ventilator. 

He turned his head slightly to look at her face. Even like this, broken and bruised, she was so fucking beautiful. The plastic of the ventilator obscured most of her mouth, both of her eyes were blackened, and thick strips of white gauze wrapped around her head. He knew they’d had to shave some of her hair for surgery, but it still fell in auburn waves around her shoulders. She’d be happy about that, he knew. She loved her hair. 

_Loves_ , he corrected himself. _She’s still here. Please wake up. Please, please, please…_

“Sandor…” Arya placed a soft hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. “Take a walk. Go get a cup of coffee.” She urged him. 

“I’m not leaving her.” Sandor replied in a thick voice. 

“She’ll be here when you get back.” Arya insisted, wrapping her small hands around his upper arm and tugging gently, like she could force him to move. “Five minutes, Sandor. Just walk around the wing. You’ve been sitting there for hours.” 

“I’m not leaving her.” He repeated his earlier answer, still not sparing a glance for Sansa’s younger sister. 

Arya’s hands dropped from his arm and she heaved a deep sigh. He could practically feel the look Jon and Arya exchanged behind his back, communicating silently in that creepy way the Stark siblings often did. Sandor couldn’t dwell on that now. He had to focus. He had to pray. 

_Please, please, please. Don’t take her from me. Wake up, little bird. I need you._

“Your mother is on her way.” Jon spoke after a while. 

“Thank God.” Arya sighed. 

Sandor exhaled. _About damn time, Cat._ He and Sansa weren’t married yet, so the doctors wouldn’t tell him anything. They wouldn’t tell anyone anything until her mother arrived. Sandor traced the ring on her third finger. He’d agonized over picking a ring for her for weeks, months even, before he broke down and asked her mother for help. Cat had shrieked with joy and thrown her arms around Sandor’s neck, jumping up and down and squealing in delight, before she dissolved into soft tears. After she released Sandor, she placed both hands over her heart and lifted her face towards the ceiling. 

“Our baby girl is getting married, Ned.” She’d addressed her departed husband. 

Sandor had shifted uncomfortably. 

“She has to say yes first…” He’d mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

Cat had dropped her gaze back to Sandor and given him a stern look, the one she gave Bran and Rickon when they skipped homework or tried to sneak extra desserts. 

“She’ll say yes.” The matriarch had said firmly, then patted his good cheek affectionately. 

_I’ll marry her tomorrow,_ Sandor found himself thinking wildly. _I’ll marry her here in this damn room. Just please wake up. Sansa, please._

Catelyn hurtled into the room, Bran and Rickon on her heels. From his peripheral vision, Sandor saw Jon leap from his chair and take the boys hands, quickly leading them from the room and mumbling about the cafeteria. 

“My baby girl…” Cat sobbed, pressing one hand to her mouth and using the other to brush Sansa’s hair back. “My baby girl, what happened?” 

Sandor barely registered Arya filling in her mother on what they knew of the accident. T-boned. Car rolled. Wasn’t wearing her seat belt. Brain surgery. 

Sandor felt his eyes welling with tears and sniffed loudly, trying to bite them back. Arya quietly excused herself to find the doctor, and Cat took the seat on the other side of Sansa’s hospital bed. She reached across Sansa’s lap and placed her hand over his. Sandor tore his eyes from Sansa’s face to look at her mother. She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. Sandor nodded once, then turned his gaze back to the woman he loved. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned to silently communicate with the Starks, too. 

Arya returned with a doctor in tow, and Cat stood at once. Sandor didn’t move, but tried hard to listen. He didn’t know what all these fancy fucking medical terms meant, but he got the gist. The accident had damaged her brain, badly. If she woke up, she might never be the same. _If_ she woke up. _If._

“You should prepare yourselves…” He heard the doctor say softly, and Sandor was on his feet in a second, whirling on the unsuspecting doctor. 

“Get out.” He growled. 

The doctor stuttered and stumbled back a step, staring up at him with wide eyes. 

“I said get out!” He roared, pointing to the door. “Go! Get out!” 

The doctor scurried away, and Cat quickly followed. Sandor dragged in a shaky breath, then turned and went back to Sansa, dropping into his chair and taking her hand again. 

_Please wake up. Don’t listen to them, girl. Fight. Fucking fight. Please._

“It’s not his fault, Sandor.” Arya said softly. 

“I know that.” He snapped, throwing a glare over his shoulder. “He shouldn’t have said all that in front of her.” 

Arya moved closer and set a hand on his shoulder again. This time he let her. “Do you think she can hear us?” 

“Yes.” He replied at once. “She knows we’re here.” _She knows I’m here._

Arya was quiet for a long moment before she spoke again. “She hates it when you yell.” She reminded him softly. 

“Maybe she’ll wake up and tell me to cut it out.” He shot back at once, even as white hot guilt stabbed it’s way through his body. 

Arya huffed a short chuckle. “She would, wouldn’t she?” Her fingers pinched into his shoulder as she squeezed. “Are you staying here tonight?” 

“Yes.” He answered at once. “I don’t want her to be alone when she wakes up.” 

Arya sighed. “Sandor…” 

“Don’t fucking start.” He snapped, and shrugged her hand off his shoulder. 

“At least try to sleep?” Arya attempted to reason with him. “Just try?” 

He hesitated, then nodded once. It wasn’t a lie if he didn’t say anything out loud, right? Arya sighed again, and Sandor knew that she knew he was full of it. She patted him gently on the shoulder and made for the door. 

“Arya?” He turned his head slightly, and her footsteps stopped. “My keys… the dogs…” 

“I’ll look after them.” Arya promised at once, crossing the room to dig through his discarded jacket. “I’ll take them home with me?” 

“Aye.” He nodded. “Thank you.” He added softly as an afterthought. 

Arya left quietly. Cat came back for a while, then she left too. Sandor ignored the doctors and nurses when he could, unless they needed him to move. The half hour she was gone for post-op scans was the longest of his life. He sat with her through the night, holding her hands, whispering words of encouragement. She could do this, he knew it. She had survived so much, she could survive this too. 

He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up with his head next to her leg on the bed. He blinked his eyes open and focused on her face, hoping against hope that he’d see her smiling down at him. No such luck. She looked worse than she did yesterday, the bruises under her eyes even darker than before. Sandor closed his eyes again and squeezed her hand. Why couldn’t this have all been a dream? 

“Don’t wake him.” 

His eyes shot back open at whisper. 

“Gods know he needs to rest too.” It was Arya’s soft voice. Sandor closed his eyes again. 

“He didn’t go home last night?” 

Sandor didn’t recognize this voice. 

“No, he’s convinced she’ll just wake up, good as new.” Arya whispered back. “I don’t know what he’ll do if she doesn’t, Robb.” 

Robb. The only brother he hadn’t met yet. 

“He’ll survive.” Robb replied. “We all will.” 

“I don’t think he will.” Arya’s voice dropped further. “You didn’t know him before, Sansa changed him. Made him a better man. He used to be so angry.” 

“He doesn’t seem like her type.” Robb observed. 

“Keep your voice down!” Arya hissed. “He’s not, but he’s better for her than any of the other fuckwits she’s been with.” 

They were quiet for a few moments. 

“So what exactly was her prognosis?” Robb asked. 

Arya sighed. “Well she made it through the night, that’s a good sign. But the doctors aren’t optimistic. There was a lot of damage and swelling… She might not wake up, Robb.”

“Have they said anything about deficits? If she does wake up?” 

“Nothing specific.” A chair dragged across the floor. “But they said we should expect memory loss, lack of motor function, maybe even changes to her personality… she might be an entirely different person.” 

Robb hummed in acknowledgement, and they fell silent again. Sandor waited a couple more minutes, then slowly sat up. 

“How are you feeling?” Arya asked, practically leaping across the room to him, 

“‘M fine.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

“Sandor, this is Robb.” She said, gesturing to her brother. 

Robb smiled politely, and Sandor nodded to him. 

“Wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.” Robb said. 

Sandor grunted, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He moved his gaze back to Sansa, sighing deeply. 

“You’ll stay with her?” He asked Arya as he walked to the door. 

“Of course.” Arya nodded, sitting back down on Sansa’s other side. 

He nodded and left the room, searching for a bathroom and a cup of coffee. Next he made his way downstairs, out the front doors of the hospital. He found the designated smoking area and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. He exhaled a puff of smoke, and reached into his pocket for his phone. He swore under his breath; it was dead. 

He finished his cigarette and went back upstairs, back to Sansa’s room. 

“I brought you some things.” Arya said when we came through the door, gesturing to his duffel bag. “Phone charger, change of clothes…” 

“Thanks.” He muttered, kneeling next to the bag. “How were the dogs?” 

“Subdued.” Arya sighed. “I think they know something’s wrong. Lady and Nymeria are usually so happy to see each other, but they were so calm.” 

She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture of all three dogs, Lady, Stranger, and Nymeria all cuddled up on Nymeria’s bed. A chuckle died in his throat and came out as a grunt. Sandor plugged in his phone and sat back down in his vacated seat, carefully taking her hand again. 

“The doctor came by while you were gone.” Arya spoke hesitantly. 

Sandor’s head snapped up. “And?” He asked. 

“They’re taking her for another set of scans soon.” Arya told him. “They said her vitals look good, and it looks like the swelling has stopped.” 

Sandor’s eyes slipped shut as he exhaled. “So she’s going to be okay?” 

Arya and Robb exchanged a look. 

“Well… ‘okay’ is subjective, Sandor… She’s probably going to live, but…” She bit her lip and shook her head sadly. 

Sandor’s shoulders slumped. “As long as she’s alive, we can figure out the rest.” 

He turned back to Sansa, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

“Have you eaten anything?” Arya asked. 

“No.” Sandor sighed. 

“When they come back for her scan, let’s go to the cafe.” Arya suggested. “Robb will stay here, for when she gets back.” 

“I’m not hungry.” Sandor answered at once. 

“Well too bad.” Arya huffed. “Sansa would want you to eat, so you’re going to eat.” 

She had him there. 

“Fine.” He grumbled, shooting a glare at her. 

She grinned triumphantly, and Robb rolled his eyes. 

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, until a technician came to get her for the scan. Sandor pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he stood, then carefully placed her hand back on the bed and stepped back. 

“Come on, then.” Arya tugged on his arm, and he let her pull him from the room. 

He didn’t pay attention as she loaded a tray down with food, and a few minutes later she sat him down at a table and pushed the tray towards him. Sandor felt sick to his stomach, but he forced himself to eat a couple bites before he dropped his fork. 

“I’ve seen you eat.” Arya said sternly. “Keep going or I’ll tell mum.” 

Sandor grumbled as he picked his fork back up and took another bite. Easier to force himself to eat than listen to her nagging, anyways. 

When she finally deemed that he had eaten enough, they made their way back upstairs to Sansa’s room. She wasn’t back yet, and Robb was sitting in the corner. Sandor sighed as he sat down and pushed his hands through his hair. They brought Sansa back, and eventually a doctor came to update them about the scan. More medical bullshit, which boiled down to them still not having any fucking idea when she would wake up. 

The next few weeks passed the same. Sandor had to go back to work, but he spent every moment he could at the hospital, holding her hand, and praying for her to wake up. Eventually she was moved out of ICU, and nurses on her new floor set up a cot for him so he could sleep there. The most uncomfortable cot he’d ever fucking seen, most nights he fell asleep in a chair with his head on her leg. 

He thought he almost dropped dead from a heart attack the day they took her off the ventilator. She started choking and gagging, and Sandor had never been more scared in his whole life until someone explained that it was good; she was breathing on her own. 

But she was still unconscious, and they still had no idea when or if she would wake up. It had been 17 days now, and Sandor was starting to lose hope, though he’d never admit it. Cat had decorated Sansa’s room with photos and flowers, and nearly every day she brought some kind of baked goods for the hospital staff. Sandor had no idea how she was holding it together well enough to bake; Sandor could barely even shower. But Cat was there every day, Bran and Rickon in tow, with cookies, cakes, or lemon squares. She brushed and braided Sansa’s hair, sang to her, even read news articles off her phone. All the while, Sandor mostly sat by her side in silence. He had a million things to say, but the words got stuck in his throat. 

Days continued to trickle by. Her bruises were healing, she was breathing on her own, yet for all intents and purposes, she was no better off than the day of the accident. The doctors didn’t have answers. Sandor lost his mind the day a social worker came by with pamphlets for long term care facilities. He couldn’t move her somewhere like that, that was basically giving up on her. He’d screamed and raged at the social worker, and Cat shot him a reproachful look as she took the social workers arm and led her from the room. 

“Gods, Sandor.” Arya groaned. “You can’t keep screaming at everybody. She’s just doing her job.” 

“I won’t send her off to be forgotten.” He snapped. 

“Who’s forgetting?” Arya shot back. “No one. But it’s a waiting game now, Sandor, and if they can take care of her better and make her more comfortable, why not move her somewhere else?” 

“I’m not giving up.” He insisted. 

“No one is giving up!” Arya threw her hands in the air. “No one is sending her away because they don’t care!” 

Sandor shot her a glare, hoping that would silence her, but she pressed on. 

“I know it’s hard, Sandor, but we don’t know when she’s going to wake up!” 

“It could be tomorrow.” Sandor counterd. “It could be today.” 

“It could be a year from now.” Arya dropped her hands back to her sides and gave him a pleading look. “Or it could be never. We _can’t_ keep her here like this Sandor, we have to talk about our options.” 

“ _Options._ ” He repeated disdainfully. “What fucking options? She’s staying here. What happens when she wakes up, Arya? She’ll need doctors there, she can’t be in a place like that.” 

Arya sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, then slowly approached him and sat in the chair opposite him, on the other side of Sansa’s bed. 

“I know you don’t want to think about the worst case scenario.” She said quietly. Sandor sneered, she was talking to him like he was a misbehaving toddler. “But it’s time to start thinking about it. We need to start facing the possibility that she could be like this for a very long time.” 

The corners of Sandor’s eye started to burn so he squeezed them shut and clenched his jaw. “Not yet.” He managed to say. “Not yet.” 

“Then when?” Arya asked. 

Sandor looked up at her, brows furrowed. 

“You don’t want to move her yet, fine. When will you be comfortable moving her?” Arya met his gaze steadily. 

Sandor looked away, to Sansa. He thought about it for a few minutes, then finally spoke. 

“30 days.” He said. “If she stays like this for a month, I’ll agree to move her.” 

“30 days.” Arya repeated with a nod. She rose to her feet and walked towards the door. She squeezed his shoulder on her way by. 

Sandor glanced over his shoulder as the door clicked shut, then turned back to Sansa and picked up her hand. 

“You damn well better be awake.” He murmured to her. “I don’t want to move you somewhere like that, little bird. You need to wake up.” 

Three days later found him touring long term care facilities with Cat and Arya. Sandor tried to refuse to go, but Cat somehow coaxed him away from Sansa’s bedside and into the passenger seat of her minivan. Arya was chattering away in the backseat, reading off the brochure. 

“They’ll take her outside every day if the weather is nice.” She was saying now. 

“Oh that sounds lovely.” Cat smiled. “Don’t you think she’ll like that, Sandor?” 

He grunted in acknowledgment. 

“And they’ll read to her.” Arya added. “They have a whole library, look!” She shoved the brochure in his face. 

Sandor batted it away and shot a glare over his shoulder. She was undeterred. 

“And they can help with her physical therapy if she wakes up. That’s good, we won’t have to move her again.” Arya continued. 

“ _When_.” Sandor snapped, glaring at her again. 

“Sorry?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“ _When_ she wakes up. You said ‘if.’” 

“Right.” Arya gave him a sympathetic smile that made him want to reach back there and smack her on the head. “ _When_ she wakes up.” 

She continued reading aloud from the brochure, and Sandor crossed his arms, glaring out the window. He knew this was a fucking mistake. 

They arrived at the facility a few minutes later. It was gated, and Cat had to speak to someone through an intercom to buzz them in. Bad fucking sign, if you asked Sandor. Were people trying to run away? 

They parked and came to the front door, where a cheerful looking nurse was waiting for them. She wore flowery pink scrubs, and Sandor couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“Welcome! My name is Randa, I’ll be giving your tour.” She smiled broadly. 

Sandor rolled his eyes again as he reluctantly shook her offered hand. Randa led them around the facility, chatting away about all the amenities this place offered like it was a resort. 

“And this here would be Sansa’s room.” Randa said, opening the door and stepping inside. “The furniture here is provided by us, but you’d be welcome to bring additional items if you’d like.” 

Sandor looked around the room. There was a hospital bed, a nightstand, and a chair. No artwork hung on the walls, the blankets looked scratchy, and there was only one window. He made his way over to it and looked outside. The window overlooked the garden, and he could see other workers outside walking with patients, who all looked old as fuck. He turned away. 

“The room is lovely.” Cat was saying, looking around. “Can we decorate for her? Bring some photos and artwork?” 

“Of course!” Randa gushed with a smile. “We encourage our residents to bring things from their homes, to make the room feel more welcoming.” 

“What about her dog?” Sandor asked. 

“Oh, we don’t allow pets here.” Randa’s smile dropped slightly. 

He turned his gaze to Cat. “This won’t work then.” 

“Sandor, please.” She sighed, giving him a pleading look. 

“Pets are a tripping hazard.” Randa explained. “Plus some of our residents have allergies.” 

“May we see the library?” Arya interjected. 

“Yes, right this way!” Randa’s cheerful smile was back as she led the way out of the room. 

Sandor hesitated, looking around again. He couldn’t picture Sansa in this room. He sighed, then followed them back out into the hall, quickly catching up with them. 

The library was unimpressive at best. It was smaller than the room Randa had shown them. 

“We also have an art room, we play movies in the common areas, and the garden is just lovely.” Randa was saying now. “So what do you think? How are we feeling?” 

“This isn’t good enough for her.” Sandor said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around. 

Arya heaved an obnoxious sigh. 

“Sandor, please try to have an open mind.” Cat begged. 

“This is the best place we’ve seen so far.” Arya added. 

Sandor shook his head. “It’s not good enough.” 

“We’re ranked in the top five long term care facilities in the entire North.” Randa started. 

“I don’t fucking care how you’re ranked.” Sandor snarled. “It’s not good enough for her.” 

“Please forgive him,” Cat said to Randa, placing a hand on her arm. “We’re all under a lot of stress.” 

Sandor huffed and rolled his eyes as Randa reassured Cat. Sandor turned away, staring at the books on the nearest shelf. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Arya lowered her voice as she stepped towards him. 

“She needs to be somewhere she can have Lady.” Sandor said. 

“She can’t take care of a dog right now, Sandor.” Arya tried to reason with him. “What else?” 

Sandor looked around the room again. 

“This library sucks.” He said finally. 

Arya huffed a short laugh. “Most of the people here aren’t in any position to be reading.” She said. “Do you have any real reason why we can’t bring her here? The reviews are good, the people are nice…” She trailed off and looked at him expectantly. Sandor sighed. “Don’t make mum pull rank on you.” Arya dropped her voice further. 

“Fine.” Sandor muttered. “But I don’t like it.” 

“I know.” Arya patted his arm sympathetically, then turned away. “Asshole is on board.” She announced. 

“Arya!” Cat chided. 

Randa clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle. Sandor glowered. They left the facility soon after that, giving Cat a mountain of paperwork to fill out for the transfer. 

“Would you quit skulking?” Arya asked, digging her elbow into his side just below his ribs as they walked back to the van.

“Cut it out.” He growled, using his elbow to push her back. She stumbled, but caught herself and jogged to catch back up to them. 

“Isn’t Randa just lovely?” Cat said as they climbed back into the van. 

Sandor grunted. 

“I thought she was annoying.” Arya said matter-of-factly. 

“Arya Stark!” Cat whipped her head around. “You mind your manners, young lady!” 

Arya snickered, and Sandor rolled his eyes. They made it back to the hospital, and Sandor spent the rest of the day holding Sansa’s hand while her mother and sister gushed over how great the facility would be for her. 

_Don’t listen to them_ , he begged her. _Wake up, little bird, I don’t want you to go there._

Days went on, and Sandor’s mood became worse and worse. Cat put on a show of being excited to move Sansa to the damn long term care facility, like it would make a fucking difference. And every day Sandor continued to silently beg her to wake up. This was why he didn’t fucking believe in the fucking Gods; they weren’t listening. And if they were listening, they didn’t give a shit. That much was fucking clear. 

Sandor couldn’t explain it, but he could feel it in his gut that if they moved her, that was it. She’d never wake up. And he didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t, the thought alone was too much bear. 

“29 days, little bird.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You better get your shit together before I get used to sleeping alone again.” He forced a chuckled, brushing his fingers through her limp, lifeless hair, then heaved a sigh. “Come on, little bird. Your mother is moving you the day after tomorrow if you don’t wake up.” 

He paused to pull his chair over to her bedside and dropped into it, then picked up her hand, cradling it in both of his. 

“You’ll like Randa. She’s chirpy, like you. Not as pretty, though. Nowhere near. I’ll make sure they have some books by that old Targaryen fucker you like so much. Aemon? Aegon? Aedwin? Fuck, I don’t know his damn name. Arya will know, won’t she?” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “I’ll find the damn books and make sure someone there reads to you. Every day.” He trailed off, gazing at her face. Even with her eyes sunken in, with hollow cheeks and pale skin, she was breathtaking. 

“But I’m never moving on.” He added after another minute. “I know you’d want me to, but I won’t, so you’ll just have to wake up. You hear me, girl? You have to wake up.” 

He stared at her for another long moment, then sighed and shook his head. He fell silent, staring at his hands. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he never got to tell her, so many dreams she’d never see come true, inside jokes that would die right along with her. The words he managed to put together in his mind got stuck in his throat, so he said nothing. 

Her fingers twitched in his hand. She’d done that a few times. The first time he’d leapt to his feet and ran from the room, all but dragging a doctor he’d never seen before to her room by the scruff of his neck. He demanded the doctor examine her, “Her hands, her fingers, I felt her move!” After a thorough examination and another set of scans, the doctors had kindly explained that it was probably just a reflex. That it didn’t mean anything, good or bad. 

Sandor squeezed her hand gently. He always hoped against hope that she’d squeeze back, but it had never happened. 

Then it did. 

Sandor’s eyes shot up, and he saw Sansa’s eyes scrunched tight together. He leapt to his feet and leaned over her, the chair clattering to the ground behind him. 

“Sansa?” He whispered. 

One hand braced his weight on the bed's rail, the other reached out to cup her face. She released a soft groan and turned her face slightly away from the window. 

“Sansa? Little bird, it’s me. Open your eyes, girl.” He murmured, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. 

Her hands were twitching madly at her sides, then one lifted a few inches off the bed. Sandor gasped and tears he hadn’t realized were gathering in his eyes spilled over. He twisted away and grabbed the control for her bed, pounding the call button. He dropped it back onto her bed, and she winced when it hit her leg. 

“Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit. Little bird?” He whispered wildly. “Little bird.” 

She groaned again and her eyes scrunched tighter, her hand falling back to the bed. Slowly, so slowly, her eyelids twitched and began to blink open. 

“Fuck, oh my god, Sansa. Sansa, look at me, babe.” His eyes raked over her face, and he was breathing wildly. 

“You called for a nurse, hon?” Someone walked in the room behind him. 

“I think she’s waking up.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “She’s making a face, her hand lifted. She’s trying to open her eyes.” 

The nurse sprung into action, hurrying around to the other side of the bed. 

“Sansa?” She called, taking her hand. “Sansa, open your eyes.” 

“Listen to her.” He implored quietly. 

“Sansa, if you can hear me, try and squeeze my hand.” The nurse said. 

Sandor’s eyes snapped to her hand in time to see her fingers contract slightly around the nurses hand. 

“That’s good, right?” Sandor asked, looking between Sansa and the nurse. 

She nodded. “I think she’s coming around.” 

“Holy fucking shit.” He whispered again. “Her mom! Fuck, shit, I gotta call her mom.” Sandor mumbled, fumbling in his back pocket for his phone. 

Two more nurses came hurrying into the room. 

“Give us some room, hon.” The first nurse instructed, swatting at his hand that still cradled her face. 

He stumbled back a couple steps, raising the phone to his ear with shaking hands. 

“Alright, sweetie, keep trying to open your eyes for me.” The nurse said as Sandor listened to the phone ringing in his ear. “That’s it, you’re doing great. Keep trying, Sansa. Open your eyes.” 

“Sandor?” Cat’s voice came through the phone and Sandor jumped, the phone nearly slipping out of his hand. “Sandor, what’s happened?” 

“She’s waking up.” He stuttered. “She’s waking up, she’s moving. She squeezed my hand.” 

He heard Cat swear quietly and almost laughed, the sound was so foreign coming from Sansa’s mother. 

“I’m on my way.” Cat almost shouted, and the line disconnected. 

Sandor’s arm fell limply to his side as he watched the nurses work over Sansa, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his entire body. 

“Good job, Sansa. Follow my finger with your eyes.” The nurse was saying now, and Sandor almost collapsed. He reached behind him to steady himself against the wall, breathing hard. The nurse looked up at him. “Your man’s here, do you want to see him?” She smiled and beckoned Sandor closer. 

Sandor hurtled forward, practically knocking another nurse out of the way. Sandor’s hands went immediately to her face, cupping her cheeks. 

“Sansa.” He whispered.

He watched with bated breath as her beautiful blue eyes focused on his face, then she flinched away from him. Sandor felt his heart stop. 

She opened her mouth but all that came out was a choked, raspy sound. She coughed weakly, then tried again. 

“Where is Harry?” She asked weakly, her voice sounding completely foreign. “Who are you?”


	2. Chapter 2

Sandor cringed when the bartender smiled and jerked her head towards his normal booth. 

“It’s open for ya!” She called out to him. “Haven’t seen you in a minute, you still want the usual?” 

He nodded mutely, begrudgingly making his way down the room to sit in the booth. This was where he was sitting the first time he saw Sansa. He had been waiting for Bronn, drinking the usual, when a tall, gorgeous redhead walked in. He’d stared at her as she glanced around, seeming to look for someone, then headed to the bar. Her fiery red curls hung halfway down her back and swung in time with her hips. Sandor had been mesmerized, his eyes raked down her body, from the midnight blue top she wore to her skin-tight black jeans. She’d braced her elbows on the bar and leaned forward, her perfect ass tempting him to abandon Bronn. 

He’d torn his gaze away from her and took a long sip of his beer, but his eyes landed back on her of their own accord. She was smiling and chatting with the bartender, and as Sandor watched, she threw her head back and laughed. The image was burned into his brain and had been since the day it happened. It was the day his life changed forever, and he’d never forget the moments before it happened. 

“Excuse me, cunt.” Bronn had said as he’d dropped into the seat opposite. “Margaery only agreed to this if I could bring a friend for her friend. You’re the friend for her friend. You are on a date until I say otherwise, now stop staring at the redheads ass.”

Sandor had torn his eyes from Sansa to frown at Bronn. “And did you tell your friend that the friend you brought for her friend has a fucked up face?” He’d pointed at the ruined mess of scar on his jaw for emphasis. 

Bronn had looked sheepish. “Well, no.” 

Sandor had rolled his eyes. “Then your friend's friend isn’t going to be interested in your other friend anyways, so I might as well stare at the redheads ass.” Sandor had promptly turned his gaze back to Sansa. 

“Stop saying ‘friend,’ I’m getting confused.” Bronn had said, rubbing his temples. “I’ve been trying to get Margaery to agree to a date for weeks, can you just be cool?” 

Sandor had ignored him, and Bronn sighed deeply. Just then, Sansa had turned her head slightly and their eyes locked. Sandor’s heart skipped a beat, and Sansa had blushed and turned away, then bit her lip and peeked back in his direction. She’d given him a shy smile, her cheeks still pink, then turned back to the bartender. 

“I’m going over there.” Sandor announced, downing the rest of his drink. 

“The fuck you are!” Bronn hissed, practically leaping across the table to block Sandor from exiting the booth. “You are here to meet someone, you cunt, you can’t go over there.” 

“Your girls aren’t here yet.” Sandor countered, gesturing around the room. “Fucking move, I’ll just be a minute.” 

“If you fucking blow this--” Bronn had warned in a whisper. 

“I’ll be done before they get here.” Sandor promised as he swatted Bronn’s arm away and scooted over on the bench so he could stand. 

“No, don’t!” Bronn threw his arm back out. “That’s Margaery!”

Sandor had sworn under his breath. As determined as he’d been to go talk to a hot redhead who’d smiled when she caught him checking her out, he had been reassuring Bronn all week that he’d be there for his buggering double date. 

“You have an hour before I call this date and go talk to that girl.” Sandor had muttered to Bronn. “And if it looks like she’s going to leave, I’ll--” 

“Hold the fuck on…” Bronn had gasped. 

The cute brunette that Bronn had pointed out waved to the girl at the bar, then moved quickly across the room to embrace her. 

“You don’t think that…” Sandor had trailed off as the girls released each other, and the brunette, Margaery, had glanced around and then waved at Bronn. 

“Fuck me.” They whispered at the same time, as Margaery and the redhead started towards their booth. 

“You’re welcome.” Bronn had given him a smug grin, then pushed himself to his feet and turned to the girls. “Margaery! You look beautiful, darling.” He’d given her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek. Sandor pushed himself to his feet as well and took a step closer. “Lovely to meet you, Sansa.” Somehow bullshit courtesies accompanied by Bronn’s lascivious grin always made girls blush and giggle. “This is my friend Sandor.” 

He’d done his best to smile as he nodded to the girl. Her blush had deepend a shade and extended to her ears, and she bit her lip again as she looked at him. 

“Nice to meet you.” She’d murmured, fidgeting with her hair and giving him a shy smile. 

“Likewise.” He’d rumbled, which for some reason made her smile widen. 

Sandor was broken from his reverie when Ros set down a shot of scotch and a beer in front of him. Sandor shook his head slightly as he reached for the scotch. 

“I’ll need a couple more of these.” He said, raising the glass in a slight toast before downing it. 

“Rough day?” Ros frowned sympathetically. 

“Rough month.” Sandor replied, setting the scotch glass back down and reaching for the beer. 

Ros hummed sympathetically. “How’s that girl of yours?” She asked. 

Sandor grimaced. He really didn’t know Ros all that well, he couldn’t very well unload on her while she was working. 

“Ah.” Ros sighed. “Well if you need anyone to talk to, you know where to find me. I’ll bring you another.” She gave him an apologetic smile and bumped his shoulder with her fist, then turned and walked away. 

Sandor sighed and dropped his head into his hands. 

_“Where is Harry?”_

The bewildered look on her face, the way she flinched away from him… That moment was burned into his brain as surely as the moment he’d met her. It felt like a hot knife slashed him through the chest, mortally wounding him. He could hardly breathe from the pain. All of the potential outcomes he’d considered, and it had somehow never occurred to him that Sansa might not remember who he was. 

“Hound.” 

Sandor’s head snapped up. Bronn had arrived and was sliding into the booth on the opposite side. 

“How’s Sansa?” He asked. 

“She’s awake.” Sandor’s voice broke. 

“Yeah?” Bronn raised his eyebrows. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“She doesn’t remember me.” Sandor whispered, looking down into his glass. 

“Go off.” Bronn chuckled. 

“I’m being serious.” Sandor said, raising his head to look at his friend. “She looked at me and said ‘where is Harry.’” 

“No.” Bronn shook his head. “She’s just confused, mate.” 

“She doesn’t remember me.” Sandor said again. 

Ros came back by the table and dropped off Bronn’s drink, and two more shots for Sandor. He downed the first one and reached for the second, but Bronn’s hand shot out and covered the glass. Sandor glared at him. 

“You’re not getting pissed. You have to go back to the hospital.” Bronn said. 

“The fuck I do.” Sandor growled. “What good can I do there? She doesn’t fucking know me.” 

“She’s just been in a coma for a month, mate! Don’t take that shit to heart, get your ass back to the hospital.” Bronn countered, then pulled the shot towards him and took it. Sandor glowered. 

“Me being there won’t make a fucking difference.” Sandor snarled. “She doesn’t fucking remember me.” 

“So help her remember.” Bronn shrugged like it was obvious. “She fell in love with you once, she will again.” 

Sandor opened his mouth to retort, but hesitated. Was it that easy? Nothing in his life had ever been straightforward. 

_Except Sansa._

People gave them funny looks, it took awhile for her family to understand, but he and Sansa were perfect together. They were opposite in so many ways, but they came together in a way that made sense. She hated it when people dropped hints, and Sandor was blunt. He hated liars, and Sansa had more integrity than anyone else he’d ever met. They just worked from the first. Maybe it would be like that again.

_“Where is Harry?”_

Sandor sighed and dropped his head into his hands again. He was kidding himself. It was a fuckng miracle she fell for him the first time, and miracles didn’t just happen to people like him. It was all a cruel fucking joke. Even if she tried to give him a chance, she was in love with another man. Her ex. Her piece of shit scumbag ex that broke her heart and betrayed her. She would have to recover from that all over again. 

“What are you still doing here, mate?” Bronn sighed, shaking his head. 

“I can’t go back.” Sandor mumbled. “She’ll send me away.” 

“Did she send you away already?” Bronn asked. 

“No.” Sandor exhaled heavily. “I left.” 

“Go back.” Bronn said again. “Go be with her, with her family. They have to be wondering where you are.” 

“She was asking for Harry, I think they can figure out where I might’ve gone.” Sandor replied with a humorless chuckle. 

“Stop fucking around.” Bronn glared. “Come on, I’ll drive you back.” 

“I can drive myself.” Sandor said, picking up his beer again. 

“How much have you had to drink?” Bronn pressed. 

“Not much.” Sandor replied, then chugged down the rest of his beer. 

Bronn frowned as he followed Sandor to the parking lot. Both moved to pull their hoods up against the rain as they walked to Sandor’s truck. Bronn reached for the driver side door at the same time as Sandor, and Sandor rounded on him with a snarl. Bronn raised his hands in mock surrender and took a step back, shaking his head. 

Sandor climbed in the truck and locked the doors behind him, almost smiling at the incredulous look on Bronn’s face when he tried the passenger door and couldn’t get in. 

“I’m following you!” Bronn bellowed over the rain and roar of the engine. 

Sandor flipped him off, put his truck in gear, and drove away without sparing another glance for Bronn. Sandor reached the hospital a few minutes later, parking in the visitors lot, and cut the engine. He heaved a deep sigh and turned his attention to the brightly lit entrance. People were hurrying about with their heads bowed against the rain, which seemed to be falling harder every second. 

Sandor sat in silence for a while, contemplating whether he should just go home, when there was a sharp tap on his passenger window. He jumped and whipped his head around, glaring when he saw Bronn’s expectant face staring back at him. 

“Motherfucker.” Sandor swore, ripping his keys from the ignition and opening the door. 

“You’re a cunt.” Bronn called to him as he walked around the truck. 

Sandor walked as fast as his long legs could carry him, smirking to himself as Bronn broke into a jog to keep up. 

“You’re going to follow me all the way to her door?” Sandor frowned as Bronn followed him into the elevator. 

“Gotta make sure you follow through.” Bronn said, clasping his hands together and rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Sandor rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. 

The elevator doors opened again, and Sandor strode off. Bronn let him pull ahead, trailing a little ways behind. When Sandor rounded the corner to the hall that held Sansa’s room, he skidded to a halt. 

Five pairs of accusing eyes turned his way; Jon, Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Arya were all waiting in the hall outside Sansa’s room. Sandor hesitated, and watched wearily as Arya rose from where she was crouched in front of Bran and Rickon. 

“Where the hell have you been?” She demanded as she reached him, reaching up to smack him on the head but falling short somewhere around his shoulder. 

“How is she?” Sandor ignored her question. 

Arya bit her lip and glanced back over her shoulder. 

“Not good.” She answered quietly. She placed a small hand on Sandor’s elbow and guided him back the way he’d come. “Best we can tell is she doesn’t remember anything from the past six years.” 

_“Six years?”_ Sandor repeated, his mouth falling open. 

Arya nodded solemnly. “They had to dose her with valium, she got hysterical. She was asking for Dad, and--” Arya choked off with a sob and clapped a hand over her mouth, spinning on the spot to hide her face. 

Sandor patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, glancing over his shoulder at Bronn. 

Arya sniffled and used the cuff over her sleeve to wipe her nose, then slowly turned back to face Sandor. 

“It was worse than when she found out the first time.” Arya whispered, leaning back against a wall. “It was too much for her to handle, she was screaming and crying, saying that we were lying to her, she didn’t believe us. She started screaming for Dad to help her, that it wasn’t funny.” 

A fat tear spilled down Arya’s cheek and she turned her face away from him again. 

“I’m sorry.” Sandor sighed, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here.” 

“Yes, you should’ve.” Arya snapped, glaring at him again. “You haven’t left her side for weeks, but you ran as soon as she woke up? We needed you, Sandor, and you weren’t here.” 

“I’m sorry.” He repeated. What else was there to say? 

Arya huffed and turned away from him, shaking her head. 

“How is she now?” Bronn interjected. “Is she sleeping?” 

Arya’s harsh expression softened slightly. “No. She’s awake. Mum is with her now, talking to her.” 

“Do the doctors think she’ll get her memory back?” Bronn asked. 

Arya shrugged helplessly. “They don’t know, and they said there’s no way to find out.” 

“At least she doesn’t have to go to that buggering care facility now.” Sandor sighed, leaning back against the wall. 

“What do you mean? Of course she’s still going.” Aray said, looking up at him. “She’s just been in a coma, she still needs round the clock care and physical therapy before she can come home.” 

Sandor’s stomach dropped and he raked a hand down his face. 

“Fuck.” He sighed. 

“Come on,” Arya pushed off the wall and motioned back the way they’d come with her head. “Go in there and introduce yourself.” 

Arya started back towards Sansa’s room, but Sandor was rooted to the spot. 

Introduce himself? What the fuck? 

“Sandor?” Arya called back to him, brows furrowed. 

He shook his head slightly and slowly pushed himself away from the wall, then looked at Bronn. Bronn gave him a half smile and clapped him on the shoulder, and Sandor began to walk towards Arya. 

He hesitated again at the door to Sansa’s room. In four years of knowing her, he’d never been this terrified to see her. He’d never been so unsure of what she would say or do. 

“Go on, then.” Arya urged. 

When he didn’t move, she huffed an obnoxious sigh and opened the door. 

“Go.” She repeated, giving him a shove. 

His body caught up before his mind, and he found himself walking forward. He flinched when the door clicked shut behind him, and shook himself, forcing his eyes to focus on the scene before him. 

Sansa was sitting up in bed, a mess of crumpled tissues littering her covers. Catelyn sat at her side, dapping her eyes. Sansa was staring blankly across the room, her eyes red and puffy. 

He cleared his throat softly, and Cat’s head snapped up. 

“Sandor.” She greeted with a forced smile, rising to her feet. 

He nodded to her, then moved his gaze back to Sansa. She hadn’t moved her head, but he could tell she was appraising him from the corner of her eye. Apprehension showed clearly on her face, and Sandor felt his stomach flip with nerves. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked as gently as he could. His voice still came out rough and raspy. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” Sansa’s reply was barely more than a whisper. Courteous as ever. 

“Sansa, darling, this is Sandor.” Cat said with another forced smile. “Do you remember Sandor?” 

Sansa glanced at him again, then turned to her mother and shook her head slightly, biting her lower lip. 

Cat’s face fell, but she quickly masked it with another fake smile. 

“That’s alright, love.” Cat said, smoothing the blankets that covered Sansa’s legs. “It’s alright. What matters is that you and Sandor are very good friends, and he cares about you a great deal.” 

Sandor flinched when Cat described him as a friend, and he almost lost the meager contents of his stomach. She shot him an apologetic look, and he schooled his face to remain neutral. 

“How do I know him?” Sansa asked, glancing towards Sandor again. 

“Well…” Cat trailed off, her gaze flickering between Sansa and Sandor. 

“We met at a bar.” Sandor interjected. “Four years ago.” 

Sansa seemed to mull his answer over for a moment, then nodded once and turned away from him. Sandor bit back a sigh, and raked a hand through his hair to make sure his scars were adequately covered. 

Cat looked helplessly between them for a moment, then plastered that damned fake smile back on her face. 

“Darling, I need to check on the boys.” Cat said, brushing Sansa’s hair behind her ear. “Will you be alright with Sandor for a few minutes?” 

Sansa looked alarmed, glancing at Sandor again as she seized her mothers hand. 

“You’re going to leave me alone with him?” Sansa whispered. 

Sandor turned away and brought a hand up to cover his face. It felt like he’d been punched in the gut. 

“You’re safe with Sandor, love.” He heard Cat assure her. “I’ll only be gone a moment.” 

Sandor bit the inside of his cheek hard as the corners of his eyes began to burn. A moment later Cat was beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. 

“Sandor, I--” 

“‘S fine.” He muttered. “Go check on them.” 

Cat squeezed his arm and gave a sympathetic smile, then slipped from the room. Sandor took a few steadying breaths, then turned back to Sansa. Her head whipped around the other way, and he knew he’d caught her staring. He took a few steps forward, and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. 

“You can sit, if you like.” Sansa peeped, settling back against the mountain of fluffy pillows Sandor had brought from their house and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. 

Sandor nodded once and sank into a chair, still farther away from her than he’d like to be. He racked his brain for something to say, something neutral, something that wouldn’t scare her. But all he could think to do was profess his love for her, and he wasn’t a bleedin’ poet. He’d make a fool of himself at the best of times, and these were surely the worst. 

“I can’t wrap my head around this.” Sansa spoke softly. 

Sandor’s head snapped up. “What?” 

“This.” Sansa gestured vaguely. “Six years. I’d think it was a cruel practical joke, if not for Rickon.” 

“Rickon?” Sandor repeated, kicking himself for how stupid he sounded. 

“In my head, he’s still a baby.” Sansa said, looking down at her hands. “He just turned two a few weeks ago. But he walked in here, telling me all about how dinosaurs and dragons are members of the same family. And I recognize him, but I don’t. You know?” 

“I know.” He didn’t. 

“Mum told me that… that Daddy died.” Sansa’s voice broke and her lower lip began to tremble. “But I just saw him yesterday. And… and I don’t even remember Harry proposing. Mum said we’re not together anymore, but I’m still wearing his ring, so it can’t have been that long ago. Can it? Do you know?” 

Sansa was giving him a pleading look, but Sandor was seeing red. He balled his hands into fists to keep them from trembling, and inhaled deeply to keep his blood from boiling. 

“It’s not Harry’s ring.” He managed rasp between clenched teeth. 

Sansa’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Of course it’s Harry’s ring.” Sansa replied. “Who else’s would it be?” 

Sandor broke her gaze and cursed quietly. There must’ve been a reason Cat hadn’t told Sansa she was engaged, and he hadn’t bothered to ask. He should’ve asked Arya more questions, what the fuck was he thinking coming in here without knowing? 

“S… Sandor?” Sansa peeped. “If it’s not Harry’s, whose ring is it?” 

“Nevermind.” Sandor snapped, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to me, girl. Talk to your mother.” 

“Whose ring is it?” Sansa repeated, sitting up straighter and giving him a stern look. 

“I said nevermind.” Sandor glared right back. 

Cat reappeared at that moment, closing the door softly behind her, oblivious to what she’d just walked into as she hummed softly. 

“Mum?” Sansa said. “Mum, whose ring is this? It’s Harry’s, isn’t it? Tell him, mum,” 

Cat froze on the spot, looking wildly between them. 

“Sorry.” Sandor grunted, leaning his elbows on his knees and raking a hand through his hair again. 

“Mum, tell me who gave me this ring.” Sansa pleaded. 

“Well… Sandor did, darling.” Cat said slowly, perching on the edge of the bed. 

“That’s ridiculous.” Sansa chuckled nervously. “Why would I wear it on this finger if it was from him? Why would a friend give me a diamond ring? Why…” Sansa trailed off, looking between Sandor and her mother expectantly. 

All three of them were quiet for a moment, and Sandor saw understanding begin to dawn on Sansa’s face. 

“You don’t mean…” Sansa murmured, fixing her gaze on her mother, “I’m engaged to that man?” 

The giant hand that had wrapped itself around Sandor’s chest when he first got the call about the accident suddenly released, and Sandor felt like he was falling. He wanted to cry out for the hand, when yesterday he’d kicked and fought against it, begged Sansa to wake up and release him. His hands were shaking again, but not with rage this time. 

“Yes, Sansa.” Cat was saying. “You and Sandor have been together for four years.” 

Sandor braced himself, then looked up to meet Sansa’s gaze. She flinched and stiffened, quickly turning away from him as her nose wrinkled in disgust. 

Where was that giant hand? He’d give anything to feel it squeezing the breath from his lungs again, anything but this. 

“I should go.” He heard himself say, and rose slowly to his feet. 

“No, Sandor.” Cat turned and reached for him. 

“I should go.” He repeated firmly. “You have a lot to talk to about, and I… should go.” 

Cat called out to him again as he hurried from the room, and he just barely managed not to slam the door behind him as he fled. 

“Sandor?” 

“How is she, mate?” 

“Are you alright?” 

The voices blended together as Sandor sank back against the wall, breathing heavily. He sank to the floor as his legs gave out beneath him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Arya’s face came into focus in front of him, Bronn just behind him. 

“She didn’t know.” Sandor whispered. 

“Didn’t know what, mate?” Bronn asked. 

“Cat, she didn’t… your mother… Sansa didn’t know.” Sandor murmured wildly. 

He saw Robb and Jon exchange a concerned look in his peripheral vision, then Robb swiftly moved forward to enter Sansa’s room. Arya waited until the door closed behind him before she spoke again, 

“She doesn’t know what, Sandor?” 

“Spit it out, man.” Bronn added. 

Sandor gulped down a few deep breaths. “She didn’t tell Sansa about us.” He finally managed to say. “She thought the ring was from Harry.” 

Arya’s mouth dropped open, and she whipped around to look at Jon. Sandor turned his attention to Bronn, who looked equally aghast. 

“Her face when she realized…” Sandor shook his head slightly, and Bronn reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “She was horrified.” 

Jon folded his arms and raised one hand to cover his mouth. Arya was shaking her head and biting her lip, Bronn was giving him a sympathetic look. Even Bran and Rickon, sitting on the floor against the opposite wall, looked at him with pity. Sandor’s eyes flickered between each one of them, waiting for someone to say something. 

The door behind him opened, and Sandor raised his head to see Robb exiting the room. He looked troubled, and when he met Sandor’s eye he shook his head slightly. 

“Seven hells.” Jon cursed, turning away. 

Sandor stared back at Sansa’s older brother for a long moment, then dragged in a shaky breath as he looked away. 

“Mate…” Bronn murmured, still shaking his head in disbelief. 

And for the first time since the accident, the first time since he was a child really, Sandor buried his face in his hands and began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I work in the health insurance industry so work has been WACK the past couple weeks because of open enrollment and mandatory overtime. Between that and handmade Christmas gifts, I've barely had time to write. 
> 
> Thank you all for the reviews on the last chapter!! I'm glad you enjoyed it and I hope you enjoy this one too! As always, please tell me what you think. :) 
> 
> Stay safe out there!

**Author's Note:**

> Happy thanksgiving!! I'm doing something I've never done before, which is posting a chapter immediately after finishing it. So this might be a little wacky. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Feed me with comments! 
> 
> Love to you all and be safe. 🥰


End file.
